


Discovery

by withthekeyisking



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Bottom Jason Todd, Bruises, Collars, Dom/sub Undertones, Electrocution, Hand Jobs, M/M, Rescue Missions, Shock Collars, Top Tim Drake, Under-negotiated Kink, Undercover Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:21:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28308942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withthekeyisking/pseuds/withthekeyisking
Summary: Jason, on a mission, gets captured.Tim, working undercover, goes to get him out.There's...a side benefit.
Relationships: Tim Drake/Jason Todd
Comments: 18
Kudos: 207





	Discovery

**Author's Note:**

  * For [meaninglessblah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meaninglessblah/gifts).



> Merry Christmas, my dear <3 I'm so happy to know you  
>   
>  ~~Almost wrote you Alte/Bieder and then decided that’s more suited to an April Fool’s Day gift instead ;)~~

Tim does his best to not fidget, looking forward with a bored expression as the security officer examines his paperwork, extremely aware of the numerous cameras currently focused on him.

"Are you sure about this purchase, Sir?" a second officer asks, slightly hesitant. "You know his designation; he will not be an easy slave to train."

Yes, Tim knows his designation, that's the whole goddamn point. Do people really come to buy 'traitors' randomly around here? With the amount of hoops Tim's had to jump through to reach this far, get this close to his end goal, of course he's damn well sure about his _purchase._

"I am," Tim replies evenly, making himself sound bored and so far above all of this banality. He is Tamren Archer, a senator's son. He is one of the most powerful people in the galaxy. These men are worth less than the gum stuck to the bottom of Tim's shoes.

Or, that's who they _believe_ he is, anyway. Tim spent a lot of time on this cover, and it's damn immaculate on paper. In practice it's a little more challenging—undercover work _always_ is—but considering the station his parents held when he was younger, he at least has _some_ experience of being in a social class far above the officers. He's been doing pretty well so far.

He can't keep himself from being anxious, though. All it takes is one person who's met him before, one glitch in the system, and all of this falls apart.

"Very well," the first security officer responds. "It seems like everything is in order. Officer Jaken will take you to your purchase."

The now-named Officer Jaken gestures politely for Tim to follow him, and Tim does so, forcing his gait to remain unhurried and superior. There's no rush here, there's nothing wrong. Slow and steady.

"Prisoner TJ-0874 has been fitted with a 259 Series shock collar and cuffs, as is the normal for people of his status," Officer Jaken tells him as they walk. "Here is the remote that will allow you to control them."

He offers Tim a sleek black object that fits in his palm, with four distinct buttons and a thumb reader. At the officer's direction, he presses his thumb to the screen, and the device blinks green.

"Don't worry about someone else getting their hands on this and attempting to use it," Officer Jaken says. "It's coded to you now. Won't respond to anyone else's touch but yours. Are you interested in any of the other services we provide, Sir?"

Tim hopes his pause is taken as irritation at having been asked instead of confusion. "Other services?"

"Yes, Sir. We can have your purchase branded with your name or house sigil, if you like."

Tim takes a deep breath in and lets it out slowly, keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead. "No, that won't be necessary."

The officer simply nods, and they finish the rest of the walk in silence before coming to a stop in front of a force door, the field of electricity lighting up green between them and the cell's occupant beyond. Officer Jaken inputs a code into the panel beside the door, and the field powers down with a whine, allowing the officer and Tim to step inside.

Jason is naked, kneeling in the middle of the cell, hands locked behind his back. He's curved over slightly, a short chain extending from the floor and locking onto the collar around his neck, keeping his back arched and his face only a little under a foot off the ground. The lines of his body are tense, strained from having to hold this position for so long, and bruises are beginning to darken his skin from what looks like what must've been a truly spectacular beating.

"Prisoner TJ-0874, as requested," Officer Jaken says, almost boredly, tapping away at his datapad. "Now, I must ask again, Sir; are you sure you wish to purchase him?"

Tim nods without hesitation, trying to not let his impatience show. "Yes, I'm sure," he says, and Jason twitches slightly at his voice. "May we go now?"

Officer Jaken gives Tim a wary look, but doesn't argue. He steps forward and crouches in front of Jason, pressing his thumb to the side of his collar. The device beeps and then releases from the chain. Officer Jaken then immediately hooks a finger under the collar and yanks Jason up into a high kneel.

A grimace briefly spasms across Jason's face, and it covers the way his blue-green eyes flick questioningly to Tim.

Tim looks back steadily, trying to offer reassurance through his gaze but still give nothing away to the million cameras currently locked onto them.

"Place your thumb here," Officer Jaken instructs, jerking his head to indicate Tim should step forward, gesturing towards Jason's neck.

Following the instruction, Tim leans in and presses his thumb to the small scanner on the collar. Jason's throat bobs, pressing up against the metal, and then the collar beeps again, a small green light flicking on.

"It's now coded to you," Officer Jaken says, "along with the cuffs. You of course have the remote—" he nods to the black device in Tim's hand, then steps back, "—and you're all set. We hope you will be very happy with your purchase."

Officer Jaken gives a short bow, turns on his heels, and then is gone.

Tim watches after him for a moment, breathing. He'd _known_ that his cover was solid, but there had still been the smallest sliver of doubt that he would be rejected by the system, that alarm bells would go off, that he'd be thrown in the empty cell right next door.

But this is going...okay. So far, not terrible.

Extremely aware of all the eyes still on him, Tim ignores the urge to grab Jason and feel for himself that the other man is okay instead settling for letting his eyes roam over him. Extensive bruising, as noticed before, and there doesn't seem to be anything more extreme. No _brands,_ that's for sure, and the idea makes him shiver.

"Come on," Tim says carelessly, as if this is barely worth his time. "Follow me. If you try to run, I will drop you, is that understood?"

He wiggles the remote in his hand for emphasis, and Jason's eyes drop to it, something in them darkening. Knowing Jason, this has _definitely_ been used on him already. How many times did they electrocute him before he allowed himself to stop fighting and _wait_ for a rescue?

Jason nods tightly. Tim thinks that Tamren Archer might not like that, might turn the collar on just for a moment for a short burst of pain and then inform his slave that he requires verbal answers, and that with that verbal answer he is to be referred to as _Sir._

But Tim is finding himself completely and utterly incapable of doing that right now, when faced with Jason the way he is—Tamren Archer is always calm and in control, but Tim highly doubts his ability to stay calm if he were to put Jason through that, and even less so if Jason were actually to do as he's told.

Better to get out of here immediately than go so full-out with the charade.

So Tim turns on his heels and leaves the cell, striding back down the hallway. He makes himself look careless, but all of his attention is locked on the faint sound of Jason pushing himself to his feet with a grunt, the slightest hitch in his steps as he follows along behind Tim.

The walk back through the facility to where his ship is docked is the longest fifteen minutes of his life, and every officer he passes only makes his anxiety get higher and higher. All it takes is one person to recognize him. All it takes is one person to notice a detail out of place, and—

It's fine, it's all fine. He's worrying for nothing. He created the backstory for Tamren Archer himself, put in the time to make sure everything was up to snuff. That he had all the proper materials needed and no one would question it until they were long gone. It's all fine.

It isn't until they are both back on Tim's ship with the door sealed behind them that Tim even breathes clearly, and still he says not a word, moving immediately to the cockpit and going through the launching procedures. He hears a faint thud as Jason sits down somewhere behind him, the older man releasing a shuddering breath, just as wordless as Tim.

It isn't until they're truly out into open space, far away from those who would do them hard, that Tim feels himself _actually_ relax.

He sends a message to Bruce as soon as they're clear, saying that he has Jason and that they'll meet them in the Parvian Sector. Then he sets the ship to autopilot, takes a deep breath, and goes to deal with his new bunkmate.

Jason's in the medbay now, standing in front of the sink and leaning against the counter in a way that makes it seem like he's using it to help hold himself up. He isn't completely naked anymore, instead wearing a pair of sweatpants that are just a little too tight around the back. His neck is arched and his head tilted towards the mirror on the wall as he tries to get a good look at the collar around his throat.

It's a solid model, a 259 Series, the kind they use for high-value targets. Far, _far_ harder to escape than the normal shock collars regular slaves get, or even the expensive ones rich masters give their possessions. No, this one is designed to drop a _threat,_ designed to keep itself locked tight around Jason's neck.

Tim, despite being Jason's 'owner' now, can't actually remove the collar. Not one like this. No, that would require a _check-up_ three months from now by an empire officer, who would make sure Tim actually had Jason under control. Only _then_ would this collar be allowed to be removed and replaced by one that Tim liked better.

Any attempt to remove it right now will send out a signal and they'll have officers after them before they can even blink.

Once they finally get back to Gotham, he'll sit down with Barbara and they'll figure out how to get the collar off without leading the police right to their front door. For now...

Well, for now Jason has to get used to having that on.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," Jason grumbles.

Tim's eyes dart up from where they'd been staring to find Jason looking back at him through the mirror's reflection. He slowly lowers his head out of the arch he's been holding it in as he turns around, and the collar shifts as he does so, hitching against his Adam's apple before settling.

"You mind disconnecting these?"

Tim blinks down at Jason's cuffed hands. They're in front of him now instead of behind his back, so he must've pulled his legs through at some point after they got on the ship.

And Tim...hadn't noticed. He'd been too focused on—

He clears his throat awkwardly. "Right. Sure."

He steps forward until he's in front of Jason and presses his thumb to the small screen on the side of one of the metal cuffs, and it beeps before the pair of them release from each other. Jason's arms immediately swing down, and a short groan escapes him as he rolls his shoulders.

Tim fights the urge to fidget, eyes flittering around the room. This close, Tim can really see the various colors that litter Jason's body, the blues and red and almost-greens of bruises that were beaten into him over the last week or so. Tim's eyes drift up over his chest, Officer Jaken's words about a brand briefly sliding through his mind, and then up to the collar, and further to his eyes.

Jason is frowning at him, but he doesn't look upset. More _tired._ Maybe a little wary, which can certainly be forgiven after the week he's had.

"So when can I get this shit off?" Jason asks eventually, breaking the silence. He steps away from Tim, heading over to one of the medbeds and sitting down, rolling his shoulders against with a quiet breath.

"Not for a little while," Tim says, apologetic. "We try now and they'll be after us in a second. We'll meet up with reinforcements in the Parvian Sector and then head back to Gotham; Oracle should be able to help make you a free man again."

That, for some reason, has Jason giving him a tired smile. "Thanks for the rescue. My options weren't lookin' too hot."

Tim's eyes dip briefly down to the collar. No, his options really weren't that great; if Tim hadn't bought him, someone else would have, and probably someone who enjoys breaking rebels. There are quite a few people of that particular brand of sadism, and the thought of one of them getting their hands on Jason—

"Well you're out now," Tim says firmly. "You're mine, not theirs. And we'll be home soon."

He calls out a goodnight and turns to go, heading back to the cockpit to check their trajectory, make sure all is as it should be. He knows it will be—this is _his ship,_ after all, and it runs perfectly—but it gives him something to do.

He almost wishes there _had_ been a fight back at the facility—at least then he wouldn't have all this restless energy sitting under his skin.

Checking his systems three times tells him what he already knows, that everything is perfectly fine and they're on course for the rendezvous. There's nothing left to do but wait.

God, Tim is bad at waiting. He likes having things to do, tasks to complete, problems to fix. Just...sitting through the emptiness of space is not his idea of a good time. It leaves his mind too free. Lets it drift too easily to other things.

Tim rubs a hand over his face with a sigh and heads out of the cockpit, towards his quarters. He should try to at least get some sleep, it's not like he's been doing much of that lately. Or ever. Whatever, it's not like Dick or Alfred are out here to chastise him over it.

He damn near yelps when the doors to his bedroom slide open to admit him only to show that Jason is already inside, lounging on his couch with a book in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

"What the hell?" Tim splutters, drawing to a stop in the doorway. Jason shouldn't have been able to even get _in_ to his rooms, let alone _want_ to, but then again it's _Jason_ —he's certainly got the engineering skills to find a work-around, and as for why he would go to Tim's room _anyway—_

Tim's cheek heat despite himself.

"Hey," Jason greets casually, glancing up from his book. "I'm surprise you're already done; I was sure you were gonna check your ship over another ten times before headin' to bed."

Tim scowls, Jason's words helping to pull him out of his surprise. "What do you want, Jason?"

"You even realize what you said, when you left?" the older man asks, tilting his head. The cigarette glows in his hand, a small dusting of ashes dropping onto the couch seat beside him. Tim has no idea where he got the cigarette, anyway; Tim doesn't smoke, and doesn't exactly stock his ship with them for those who do.

"I—what?"

"In the medbay," Jason clarifies. He puts the book down, now, carefully marking his page. "Right before you left. You said that I'm out now, I'm not _theirs,_ I'm..." He trails off purposefully.

_You're mine._

Tim's cheeks heat. No, he hadn't meant to say that. He'd been looking at the collars and the cuffs and it just—slipped out.

"I just—I mean _technically—"_

"And you haven't been able to stop starin' since you stepped into my cell," Jason continues, and now there's a hint of a smirk at the corners of his mouth, steadily growing.

Tim frowns, straightening, trying to push away the humiliation of having been noticed. "In case you didn't notice, I was there to _rescue_ you, keeping you in sight was kind of—"

"Starin' at the _collar,_ I mean."

Tim...doesn't have a response for that right away, floundering, before he pulls himself together. "It—why wouldn't I? It's dangerous, could bring a lot of—"

"Timmy," Jason interrupts, his tone somewhere between chastising, teasing, and delighted. "No need to act like a blushing bride, not like we haven't done anything together before. If you have a _thing_ for all this you might as well say. After all, you did just _rescue_ me."

Tim stares. He doesn't have a _thing_ for...all this. His attention is on the collars and cuffs because of—of scientific curiosity. And he only called Jason his because that is technically what he is, right now. And he only stared at Jason when he was kneeling because he was _captured_ and Tim was kind of there _for him._ It's nothing like what Jason is implying.

Jason arches his neck and swallows, making the collar shift, and Tim's eyes drop to it. It looks heavy, solid. Tim's read the statistics on this model; it really is escape proof. Jason isn't going anywhere. He is, for all intents and purposes, _Tim's._

The remote is burning in Tim's pocket.

"We've never really—" Tim starts, and then stops himself.

Jason wasn't wrong, they _have_ done some shit together before—usually drunken fumblings in a back room, a sloppy blowjob here, a rough handjob there—but nothing ever...like _this._ Nothing that would tell Tim it's okay to push the collar's On button and send electricity coursing through Jason's body, making him crash off the couch and onto his knees.

But Tim does it anyway.

When he turns the collar off, a groan escapes Jason, his body twitching with the aftereffects of the shock. He stays on his knees but his head hangs low, baring the back of his neck and the collar. He pants heavily.

Tim waits, frozen still, for what is sure to be the telling-off of a lifetime. Just because Jason was goading him about all of this stuff doesn't mean—

Jason lifts his head just a tad, looking up at Tim. His hair has fallen in his face, his black curls falling across his forehead, and those pretty blue-green eyes peak up through it, an appealing sight that has Tim's breath catching.

There's heat, in his eyes. Arousal. He's not...going to yell at Tim for being a disgusting asshole. He's—shit, he wants this too. He meant to egg Tim on, he wasn't just goading him for goading's sake.

"Fuck," Tim says tightly, and a sharp smirk tugs at Jason's lips.

"Best you got?" Jason challenges, cocking an eyebrow.

Tim presses another button on the remote. The cuffs around Jason's wrists whine as they come to life and then his wrists are slamming together, the magnets locking the cuffs into place. Jason tugs on them but they don't move, then looks up at Tim through his hair again, something challenging in his gaze.

Tim presses the shock button again. Very briefly, just a short burst to knock the wind out of Jason, and then strides forward until he's directly in front of him.

"Undo my belt," Tim orders, impressed with himself for how level he manages to keep his voice. He's still expecting Jason to laugh at him, to call him a freak or tell him this is all one big joke, but he doesn't.

Instead, he reaches up with still-trembling fingers and works on opening Tim's pants.

It takes a minute, Jason's body coming down from the shocks, and somehow that's even more arousing. Tim doesn't offer to do it himself, and Jason doesn't ask, the both of them focused on Jason's shaking fingers, barely breathing as they watch the belt and button and zipper come undone.

Jason doesn't hesitate from there. He yanks Tim's pants and underwear down his thighs and sucks Tim down to the root.

 _Christ_ but he's almost criminally good at this. Tim can barely keep up, gasping for air as Jason blows him. He threads his fingers through the kneeling man's hair, not pulling but tightening his grip until he knows it must be painful. Jason doesn't complain, bound hands reaching up to play with Tim's balls, and it's then that Tim yanks Jason off by the grip in his hair, refusing to come right away like a blushing teenager.

His hand relaxes, detangling from Jason's hair and then stroking down the side of his face. He brushes his thumb over swollen, red lips, and then down the arch of Jason's neck, settling onto the collar that claims Jason as _his._

"On the bed," Tim says, a tad hoarsely. "On—on your stomach."

Jason smirks up at him. _"Make_ me."

Tim's breath catches. He presses the collar's On button.

Jason spasms, teeth clacking together. With a small nudge from Tim, he tips down onto his side on the floor, twitching as electricity jolts through him. A small, faint whine escapes Jason, and Tim flicks the collar off again, watching captivatedly as Jason lies there twitching and gasping.

Tim takes a moment to breathe and make sure he isn't going to come if he so much as moves, and then crouches down. He grabs Jason's arms firmly and then heaves him up with a grunt, lugging Jason the last few steps over to the bed and then letting him flop down on his stomach, legs hanging over the edge.

He steps away from the bed, opening his dresser drawer and grabbing the small bottle of lube inside before returning. Jason has turned his head to the side and is panting wetly against the bed, the collar hiked up in what looks like an uncomfortable way.

Tim doesn't try to adjust it, instead briefly disconnecting Jason's cuffs and then tugging his arms out from under him and into the small of his back before reattaching them. A soft groan escapes Jason at that, arms twitching, but he voices no complaints, peeking up at Tim blearily.

Tim grabs the waistband of Jason's sweatpants and pulls them down, Jason lifting his feet to allow Tim to remove them completely. Some amount of clarity returns to his expression, and he watches Tim uncap the lube bottle and squirt some out onto his fingers.

"Yeah?" Tim asks, meeting the other man's eye.

"Yeah," Jason replies, voice hoarse.

It makes Tim smile, and he nods. "Alright, then."

He pushes a finger inside of him, breathing evenly through his nose, and sets to work almost clinically. He pumps the finger in and out until the muscles around it are relatively relaxed, and then adds more lube and a second finger, repeating the process. He does it again and again, until he's fucking four fingers in and out of Jason's ass, Jason panting through his teeth on each stroke.

"Get it over with," Jason grits out. "Come on, Timmy, fuck. Just fucking do it already."

Tim is tempted to tell him no just because he can, because Jason is lying there completely at his mercy, but Tim's rather anxious to begin, as well. He wants to be inside of Jason _immediately,_ and this time messing with him isn't more important. Next time Tim will make Jason wait for a long, _long_ time. For now? Well, they have more fun things to be doing.

Tim slicks up his cock with lube and then lines up before slowly inching his way inside. Tim bites out a groan and leans over Jason, one hand moving to the back of the other man's neck as he slowly fucks inside. The metal of the collar is hard and cold to the touch, heating up quickly underneath Tim's palm.

He likes the way it looks on Jason. He likes the way it and the cuffs respond to _him,_ how they claim Jason as _his._ How Jason is letting all of this happen, letting Tim take control of him this way.

It is an embarrassingly short amount of time before he's coming inside of Jason, unable to hold back.

He doesn't allow himself to bask in the afterglow, instead pulling out immediately and rolling Jason onto his back. He straddles the man's hips and takes his cock in his hands, stroking him roughly. Jason looks up at him with blown, lust-hazed eyes, and comes with a cry, painting his stomach and chest with his own release, a few drops even reaching the collar.

Tim leans down and licks the drops up off the skin-heated metal, tongue dipping into the hollow of Jason's neck. Jason gives a soft moan, completely boneless beneath him, and tilts his head up further to grant Tim better access.

It makes Tim smirk. Who knows; maybe after this, they won't be needing Barbara to remove the collar, after all.


End file.
